The Chance
by Chicken Zeus
Summary: It came down to a choice, kill Sombra and save Reyes, or leave a terrorist alive and never see his friend redeem himself. Come to think of it, it wasn't much of a choice was it? It wouldn't be the first time that McCree gunned someone down in cold blood, he just wasn't expecting Sombra to be an issue. Nevertheless, McCree owed Reyes the same chance he had received.
1. The Suit

**The Chance**

 **Warnings: Adult Language, drinking, and tobacco**

 **Location: Northern Arizona**

 **Time: 12:00, High Noon**

Nothing stirred. They were out there, waiting, and hoping for him to make a mistake, for him to act stupid. Well he wasn't about to give them that chance. He had been in tighter spots after all. One of them started to pop his head out behind the SUV, brandishing a scoped rifle in his hands, the bullet blowing a chunk in the repulsor hub sent the man back hiding. The others stayed behind their respective vehicles waiting to see how it would play out. Amateurs really. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a group this unprepared. They had the numbers, the firepower, hell, they even had him on both flanks. Somehow, he had managed to suppress them instead of the other way around. Tax payer dollars ladies and gentlemen, always well spent. This wasn't sustainable of course. Something had to give eventually and he wasn't interested in offing lawmen anymore, no matter how inept.

His eagle eyes scanned the scene before him with growing unease. The twenty some body armor wearing feds all surrounding his shack didn't seem inclined to move out around the five SUVs forming a crescent around his shack. No, they seemed quite comfortable behind their armored vehicles thank you. They haven't demanded his surrender yet either. In fact, they may not even be feds for all he knew. Another point of unease, they certainly came with a lot of toys, the pulse rifles and armored SUVs being the more obvious ones, but there were certainly plenty of unseen surveillance equipment in addition to armaments. Not many people could sneak up on him, especially out in the middle of nowhere. And they had come out of nowhere. He just got back from town that night. No sign of any built-up law enforcement activity. They had had their eyes on him. For all the good it was doing them now.

That's when he heard it, the quiet roar of a distant aircraft engine. His eyes scanned the sky and saw the light glint off of a metallic object in the distance. Whoever it was, they weren't trying to hide their approach. Maybe they thought the situation was in hand? Nah, they had comms. So, they were approaching in the open because they didn't see him as a threat? Because he wasn't going to be a threat to them, not unless he had to be.

Annoyed, he put away his revolver with a practiced spin and came out from behind the water filled metal barrels on his porch. They had had a good laugh at his expense, now he was going to see what they actually wanted. He glanced at the ruined repulsor booster, well it wasn't entirely at his expense.

He made his way down and walked to the halfway point between the porch and the center SUV. None of the feds bothered to pop their heads out. The hover type aircraft took its sweet time but arrived eventually and landed behind the SUVs without preamble. He thought he saw the doors open but the SUV he had grounded was in the way. A moment passed, then a skinhead in a suit and sunglasses appeared from behind the SUV. Well this should be good.

"Mr. McCree," he called while approaching briskly.

"Who's asking?" the response came in kind. The suited man made it a point to come to a stop in front of McCree before looking to the left, then to the right, his eyes scanning the _residence_ before finally landing on McCree.

He shrugged, "Me."

"And you are?"

"The government man wearing the suit," he all but mewed, a smirk adopting his features.

"What agency you with?"

"The FDA, we're here to talk to you about the dangers of smoking," the damned smirk etching itself ever more on his face. No government employee ever had the right to be that condescending while on the job. McCree took a moment to oblige the man by lighting his cigar and puffing out a toxic cloud.

"The fuck you want?"

"To kill someone. Specifically, I want _you_ to kill someone."

"That all?"

"For the most part."

"No, it ain't."

"Well if you _have_ to be more detailed then no, there's more to it. I though you would appreciate the bluntness though."

"It doesn't suit the suit."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah."

"Well you learn something new every day I suppose. I also suppose the cowboy hat makes one predisposed to bluntness on the other hand?"

"No, but the gun does."

"What about the spurs?"

"What about your hat?"

"I'm not wearing a hat Mr. McCree"

"And guess which one of us is going to have their bald head fried? Let's take this indoors," he indicated towards his shack and started the trek back. The suit following in stride. He threw open the screen door but didn't bother holding it for the suit as McCree made his way to the fridge. He briefly reflected that this man was probably sent here on orders, and, as he had yet to stir up any real trouble, McCree should try and be a respectful host. He reached for two glasses to accompany the whiskey.

"Are you really drinking?" the suit's voice carried over from the kitchen doorway. McCree looked over his shoulder, observing the suit's, he'll call it, _perplexed_ expression.

"Is that illegal?" he asked pouring himself a glass.

"No, but considering you're going to make a potentially dangerous decision, I'd thought you'd try to keep your mind clear?" The suit canvased McCree with a curious gaze. McCree, for his part, thought that that remark cost the suit a chance of a glass and downed his own as a hearty fuck you.

The suit looked less than impressed but really, he looked more tired than anything else.

"So … Overwatch," he began with an air of preamble.

"Never heard of it," McCree cut off with an amused snort.

"Are you really taking that road? Do we have to dance around this for the next twenty minutes before you inevitably listen to what I have to say? I thought you were going for bluntness?"

"And I thought you were going for in-control sarcastic ass, not whiney es oh bee."

"Touché."

A grunt was his only reply as McCree poured himself another refill and took a sip.

"So then, Reyes …"

"…"

"Nothing to say?"

"No," though his stiff features and strained voice made his irritation abundantly clear.

"Well then, he's alive"

"…"

"You there?"

"The fuck you just say?"

"Gabriel Reyes, your former commander is alive, relatively speaking."

"No, he's not," McCree voice touched by just a bit more emotion than was warranted by a man who had never heard of Overwatch. The suit whipped out a tablet and began scrolling through it.

"Do you remember, Moria O'Deorain was it?"

"It's Moira," Jesse ground out, refusing to so much as look at the man, instead, choosing to lean over the counter.

"Is it?" the suit squinted at his screen for a period before pulling a pair of reading glasses from his inner coat pocket and exchanged them for the sunglasses.

"Huh, so it is. Well, you recall she oversaw a number of procedures for Reyes?"

McCree was silent for a spell. She had done **_procedures_** for a lot of people in her Blackwatch days but Reyes seemed to be in her office more than was necessary. Jesse always assumed they were just making sheet music though. Wasn't his business either way.

He took a sip from his forgotten glass, letting the burn ease his mind and allow it to refocus. He rolled his shoulders forward, "Yeah."

"Da du dah! Reyes can't die," he cried out the prelude with a melodramatic toss up of his hands before slamming them on his thighs when he gave the revelation. The sudden jolt in volume grated on Jesse's already sensitive nerves.

"Apparently he did," McCree muttered with every ounce of sardonic inflection he could muster.

"Oh no, he's very much alive," the suit's tone becoming more patronizing than before. McCree paused for a moment. He focused on breathing before straightening his back and letting out a sigh.

"You expect me to believe that?" McCree's voice was relaxed but he tried to put a bit of challenge in it.

"Do you expect me to make a claim with sufficient evidence to back it?" the suit's voice was almost an amused whisper. His body had become rigid and serious. Any humor in his face had been replaced with harsh lines that had been earned by years of stress, hard calls, and bitter defeats. He extended the tablet towards Jesse.

McCree kept his eyes on the suit, neither one of them blinking. They stayed that way for a moment before McCree reached for the device and brought it up for inspection. McCree stopped breathing. His body completely stilled. Then he started breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring with the surge in oxygen intake. He knew the man on the screen, except he didn't look to be much like a man anymore. His right hand which still held the tablet started to shake. All at once he let his arm drop and his body relaxed with him leaning back on the counter. He held the device back out to the suit.

The suit regarded him for a moment before accepting his tablet back. He seemed more than willing to accept silence's control for the moment, he had won this bout after all. McCree on his end hadn't looked back up at the man. His features had been hidden by the decline of his head and the brim of his hat. A few more pants were heard.

"So," he croaked. "You want me to go after Reyes."

"No, not really. His predilection for not staying dead is annoying but not world ending. He's necessary for the context of this scheme though." The suit paused and waited for McCree to make some sort of remark. When McCree said nothing, the suit decided to move from his perch in the doorway and began again as he paced in front of Jesse.

"As you know, Overwatch has been recalled. This, of course, is in direct retaliation of Talon's escalation in operations. It stands to reason that Talon will escalate even further to counter Overwatch's resurgence. One of the ways they'll do this is by recruiting agents specifically to counter Overwatch operatives and.…" he trailed off but the gunslinger knew what he implied. McCree closed his eyes as what the suit was asking started to pierce the emotional fog he had been scuttled in.

"Let me get this straight, you want me to join Talon?"

"Of course not, I want you to join Reyes. Nobody, Reyes included, would believe that you would join Talon, but you're a loyal creature McCree and Reyes firmly believes that you're still his."

"How do you know that," McCree muttered with ever narrowing eyes.

"Because I know Reyes," the suit said bluntly. "He hates you the least, in fact, I say he has a soft spot for you." Jesse heard this and grunted in response. Clearly the suit didn't know Gabe as well as he claimed.

"The other point is that you're a mercenary and he's in the market for a top of the line gunman. If things continue the way they have been then I estimate that he'll contact you in less than three weeks. Most likely, he'll come in person."

"Why do you think-"

"Because he needs the help and you're _his_. This works in our favor." The suit paused for a moment to see if McCree had any question or further remarks. McCree remained silent, focusing on his breathing as much as he could. So, the suit plowed on.

"Now we get to the primary objective, there's a hacker that works for Talon. The only info we have is that they go by Sombra fairly consistently. Make your way into Talon's heart, find Sombra, then make them die."

McCree sucked in a breath and tried to stand without the support of the counter. The emotional roller coaster coupled with the suit's prattle had left McCree in one of the strangest emotional states in his entire life. The boss was alive, he'd been alive, and he hadn't told Jesse. Worse still, he had betrayed so much of what he used to stand for, so much of what Jesse stands for. The boss works for Talon?

His mind was distracted by the revelation, and all the implications had yet to be fully grasped. What was being asked of him wasn't perfectly clear right now either, but Jesse had been ruthlessly trained by the best man in the business to power through emotional and physical strain. It wasn't long that he began to reacquire the suit in his daze and begin to fully process his mission.

"All this to kill a hacker?" Jesse asked.

"No," at this point the suit existed merely to parry every one of McCree's questions, "I want you to kill **_the_** hacker."

Jesse scoffed, a million questions burned in his mind. Uncertainties about the suit, his goal, who he represented, and what he would do when the gunslinger refused. Jesse liked to think that he had learned a lesson about working for unnamed feds. Stay away.

The suit, on the other hand, noticed McCree's disregard and narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in response.

"Do you have any idea what we are dealing with here?"

"A forty-year-old virgin playing computer games in Talon's basement while one of the greatest warriors on the planet is out wiping innocents." It might have been a question, but it sounded more like McCree's definitive assessment of the situation with an extra coat of sarcasm for good measure. It was also felt surreal that they were talking about a dead man here.

The suit didn't even twitch in response.

"I'll rephrase and restate, Reyes is an angst filled lab rat with a penchant for killing and has a profound inability to stay dead. The scope of his damage is limited to the barrel sights of his guns. Sombra could start a dozen wars tomorrow with a wave of their hands." He delivered this statement with complete calm and no hint of condescension in his voice.

"Sombra cannot be allowed to continue their operations. They already know too much and I … we can't condone their existence any longer." At this point the suit sounded like he was about to give a speech to congress. Which, in turn, earned him another scoff from Jesse as the gunslinger preempted this by leaving the kitchen area. The suit followed with no discernible sense of McCree's annoyance, and when McCree found his chair in the den, the suit kept standing. A few feet too close on McCree's right.

McCree reached for his lighter to rekindle his forgotten cigar. He took a long drag and let out a small cloud of smoke. The suit apparently deemed it necessary to give the gunslinger a moment to collect himself and Jesse wasn't about to pass up at the opportunity. A minute or so passed with McCree taking a few more drags from his cigar before he turned towards the suit. He was cut off before he could begin though.

"I've stacked the deck for you McCree. You'll be pleasantly compensated for your assistance and you'll receive a full pardon for your crimes."

"You seem to be going through a lot of trouble for little O' me. They must have something big?" The suit's face was impassive, his body rigidly calm with his hands atop each other in front of his belt. In Jesse's opinion he looked about as suspicious as a burning shit bag. Jesse could see between the lines, this man had a personal stake in this beyond just getting rid of a terrorist. Seriously, he knew better than to mess with sharks like this, they would send him to his death just for a handshake with the right people. He could find Reyes on his own. He didn't need this man's interference or oversight creating a mess.

"You know McCree I'm not really a fan of the whole carrot or stick routine," he said while starting to shift to be directly in front of Jesse.

"I believe that some people just can't be motivated by personal gain alone and threats can do more damage than any supposed gain from them. No, the real trick is using both." The smirk returned to full vibrancy now and McCree narrowed his eyes in response.

"If you don't aid us, then I put the hammer down on your friends playing world police." The gunslinger's body relaxed and his arm drifted to his holster. His face lost all emotion and his mind became eerily clear.

"I've spent over twenty five years getting to where I am now, and I've gained considerable influence along the way. I'd have to call in quite a few chips, but I could get Overwatch classified as a terrorist organization. And where one agency goes, the rest will follow. With the US condemning Overwatch as criminals it wouldn't be long for other countries to follow. We'd crush you."

"You think you can just throw war heroes under the bus like this? People will see what this is, they'll fight it."

"And they'll win in the long term, leaving me to do a lot of damage in the short term. Trust me, by the time public opinion creates a shift, I would have already killed any chance for this reunion to be anything more than a monkey's dream. And if you think I can't do it, then you need to remember the Omnic Crisis. Just how much power was given to intelligence agencies during Crisis, **Blackwatch**?" The name was spat at him like an accusation.

"We can have someone thrown in a hole for a year before the powers at be even know they exist." He shifted in composure, adopting a more humble and reserved stance. His head slightly bow as if in reverence.

"Of course, I don't want to do anything of the sort to Overwatch, they're heroes who've done their time for the world. But don't think I wouldn't hit the kill switch for a moment if it made this world safer." His eyes bore into McCree's. Staring him down with all the intensity of a predator having found its prey.

"All you have to do is kill a very **_real_** , very dangerous threat. I have no doubt you'll see what kind of threat Sombra is. Besides, you're going to accept my offer. After all, I'm providing you with something no one else can." McCree's face still had an aura of calmness but his eyes narrowed just a twinge.

"Which is?"

"You really believe you can save Reyes?" the suit asked with lifted eyebrows. The unspoken question was not lost on McCree, he had seen the creature on the phone. The humanity in it had all but gone in cloud of darkness surrounded by death. Could he really save that?

"I figure I owe him the chance," Jesse muttered, not meeting the man's gaze. The suit nodded in response.

"I can give you the chance," he said holding up a datapad.

* * *

A/N: This is my first venture into fan fiction, and as such I'm trying to get the feel for things here. Critical reviews with ample suggestions would very much be appreciated. I'm also wondering about the rating system here. I'm putting this tentatively in the T range for now but I don't plan on putting in any language higher than what you've read here and violence no greater than PG-13. That being said, there's plenty of room for change in the future. We'll see how it goes. Till next time folks.


	2. Don't Talk to Strange Clouds

**Don't Talk to Strange Clouds**

 **Location: North Arizona**

 **19 Hours later**

Rage.

That's primarily what he felt.

He also felt betrayed, manipulated, embarrassed, and ….

Guilty.

McCree felt very guilty. Perhaps Gabe could have been led down a different way? He shouldn't have left when he did, before the literal explosion tore the organization apart. He had never believed the official story, and now that he's seen Gabe's condition, he's realized that there was a lot more going on than anyone could ever know.

What does his condition even do to your mind? There's got to be some chemical imbalance or something that's making him crazy. Things had started going down hill when he and Moira started playing 'which pill makes you a super hero,' and he was certain that that was the root cause of things.

Which is why he had to do what the suit wanted.

He had it. All of Moira's research, notes, test results, everything. He had waved the datapad right in his face and said "This is just a taste."

The hell it was.

He had saved his best hand till last and he knew it. McCree may not have understood much of the sciences, but he picked through enough to know that the suit had something.

If McCree could get the data then he might be able to get someone to help him cure Reyes. It wouldn't absolve all the problems, Reyes had done too much damage, but they could work on that bit when they got to it. Reyes needed this to be given this opportunity. It was him who taught Jesse that you can always change where you're heading.

Reyes had saved him from walking into hell. Anyone who passed a cursory glance at his official file knew that. The suit had picked it up and was using that against him and the galling thing was that he had to go along with it anyway.

At least he's only being asked to off a terrorist.

He glanced at the dossier but couldn't pick up where he was, his mind was clouded with too many emotions. There wasn't a whole lot on Sombra anyway.

Most of what was there was a list of activities, circumstantial evidence, theories, intercepted Talon communiques referencing Sombra, and even a list of locations that they've breached. Whoever Sombra was, they certainly kept busy.

And now they're keeping Jesse busy too.

He tossed the dossier down on the table and stood up. He'd finish it in a bit, first he needed to get some things together. So, he stood up and went about picking up a few supplies he would need. He was moving operations to town. After recent events, he felt a little exposed out here.

He grabbed a few more miscellaneous items and tossed them in a bag before he decided that he had enough and walked out to his truck. He threw the bag in the passenger seat and turned to make his way to back when he noticed the signs of a dust cloud coming his way.

Well wasn't he popular right now.

We waited for all but five seconds before deciding that they would take awhile and went inside for a smoke and water. His ornery mood had left him impatient and in need to be doing something. So, he took a moment to hide the dossier before stepping back out. They were still coming.

At least not everyone can sneak up on him.

He drew in a deep breath, put his hands on his belt, and let out a sigh as the fifteen second wait began.

He could see now that it was an older police interceptor model. It looked to be about ten years old or so and, with its current speed, he could just about outrun it on foot. Impatience aside, the car came to a stop perpendicularly behind Jesse's truck. A man exited the vehicle and briskly made his way over to McCree, securing his hat in place as he walked.

"McCree," he nodded towards the gunslinger.

"Sherriff," McCree nodded back.

"You in some sort of trouble?"

"Not yet."

"You sure? Because I had feds in my office this morning."

"They tell you to quit smoking?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"They told me to report a sighting on you, McCree, a _sighting_. You know you're still a wanted man, right?"

"Huh, so that's how they'll do it."

"What?"

"Nothing, look Paul did you do it?"

"They didn't give me much choice McCree."

"No, it's fine. Safer for you anyway."

"Like hell. We'll have bounty hunters crawling over this place in weeks."

"I'll be gone soon. Won't stir up too much trouble."

"They'll still come."

"I'll be sure to make a scene in a larger city, get them moving out."

"I appreciate it."

McCree only grunted at that, fixing his gaze on the horizon. Paul, for his part, was looking at the dirt, trying and failing to find a subtle way to ask a blunt question.

"So, what's this about anyway?"

"Bait."

"Bait?"

"Yep."

"For who?"

"A forty-year-old virgin playing video games in a terrorist's basement."

"…"

"…"

"You sure can pick em McCree."

"They ain't a client exactly."

"What are they then?"

"Sharks."

Paul had had enough of McCree's manner and dismissively waved his hand with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, I saw em in my office. Didn't ask me anything, just started telling me what to do. Oh, that reminds me."

"Huh?" He turned his head towards the Sherriff.

"They wanted me to tell you something."

"What?"

"Just what my official report says."

"Alright, let's hear it."

"Suspect Jesse McCree spotted in Shell gas station, last seen heading south on the 89."

Jesse pondered this for a bit. They probably wanted him to head for Phoenix, give Reyes a bit of time to track him down. They can't make it too easy for everyone, now can they?

"Wouldn't want to make you a liar Paul."

* * *

 **Eight Hours Later**

 **Phoenix, Arizona**

McCree was all set up and ready for the wait. He could still be here for a week before anything actually happened, depending on how busy and desperate Reyes was. Till then he had found a cheap and discrete motel, restocked on supplies, and had bought some new digs. He had even gotten himself a haircut and trimmed up his beard. Reyes would think that he was trying to hide at least.

This left him with nothing else to do but wait.

Wait and drink.

And all he had was water.

He hadn't been this worked over since his Deadlock days.

He frowned at that. Deadlock usually brought him around to Gabe, the one person he didn't want to think about right now. That smug bastard had surgically taken Deadlock apart before they had even known what was going on. He recognized the tactics Gabe had employed now. Reyes was always one for shock and awe.

He leaned back, the booth refusing to adjust to his spine's new position. He wasn't uncomfortable though. He had a late lunch and a strong cup of coffee. It certainly helped with all the alcohol he had been drinking the day before.

He gave his ice water a final swig, paid his dues, and left the diner. The familiar heat hit him as soon as he stepped outside. He took a moment to focus on it, give his mind something in the present instead of the past. So, he closed his eyes arched his head back and enjoyed baking for all of two seconds before he heard a beep.

His eyes narrowed as he fished through his pocket trying to find a comms unit. He always kept varied devices on his person, mostly cheap pay-as-you-go devices that could be disposed of without much fuss. His cliental necessitated such prudence. This was different though. It wasn't any of his burnable phones.

He pat himself down trying to locate where he stuck that thing. Just because he hadn't used it in years doesn't mean he didn't try to keep it handy. Yet, for all that he couldn't find- there it is!

He pulled the rather small device from it's hiding spot in his hat and took a moment to contemplate its meaning.

This was the satellite linked OV7 holographic comms unit, a particular model used frequently in Overwatch due to it small and easy to conceal nature. That doesn't even begin to go into its encryption programs. It was a neat little toy sure, but only a hand few of people would even use it.

He started walking away from the diner and proceeded to secure the device in his ear. Damn he forgot how uncomfortable they were. That beep was a whole lot sharper than he remembered too. He thumbed it on to vibrate and answered.

"Yeah."

"Mr. McCree?"

"Winston?"

"Oh, thank goodness. Listen, you're in grave danger! A local law enforcement officer in Arizona has put out an all-points bulletin on you! I think-"

"You mean Paul?"

"What?"

"I wouldn't exactly consider him much of a danger, but I appreciate your concern."

An exasperated sigh filled his ears.

"I'm not talking about the police, Jesse."

"The name's McCree."

"That's besides the point!" he just about shouted the last phrase. McCree waited for him to calm down, preparing himself for a miffed monkey. Winston never liked it when people were dismissive of his help, so he should just give a monkey a bone.

Even if he was being unhelpful.

"Listen, you know I sent out a message right?"

"Something about a reunion?" another sigh.

"No. There's been attacks by Talon of a disturbing nature."

"Most attacks are disturbing partner."

"This isn't about basic human savagery. They're targeting Overwatch."  
"…"

"I was attacked just prior to sending the recall. I was in Watchpoint Gibraltar, and they managed to breach the surveillance systems and hack the database. I managed to stop them before they could get everything but we have to assume that pulled some files and that they'll be coming after former agents, and that means you!"

"Uh huh."

"Don't you get it McCree! Talon has been alerted to your location and they may have operatives in the area just waiting to be activated."

He was counting on it actually, but he needed to calm the monkey down. So, McCree decided to appeal to his logic.

"That's stupid."

"What!?"

"That's stupid." he repeated. Well maybe he was just messing with monkey.

"Arizona's a big place Winston. A lot of places for a man to hide and even more to look."

"They may have your files and operational reports which will specify old contacts, former aliases, repeated locations, methodologies, even your psychiatric files."

"See this is why I always said those psych evals were unnecessary."

"McCree!" both parties paused after this outburst. McCree let the ape collect himself and continue.

"McCree, we are talking about a severe threat level here. They have access to advance software and hardware, some of which I have never seen the likes of. They could easily hack into every traffic camera in Phoenix and run facial recognition scans at a massive volume. Not to mention that they will be monitoring transmissions for voice recognition in the area. At least this line is safe."

McCree knew all this. This wasn't his first dance with Talon. He had worked in Blackwatch for almost twenty years for God's sake. He had been on the opposite end of the spectrum too many times to not know how a good hunt worked. The gorilla seemed to have forgotten what crowds the old gunslinger had walked with.

"Winston, I'm going to level with you."

"There's more to it isn't there?"

"Ya'll can say that."

"Alright, let's hear it."

"I'm working something, it's for an old friend. It's dangerous. Might not make it out in one piece."

"McCree…"

"I've still got three more limbs though so I reckon I should try."

"Is there any way we could help perhaps?"

McCree fell silent.

"This friend is here on account of me. It's either me bringing him in or putting him down."

"Is this friend Deadlock related?"

"You might say that. I met him in my Deadlock days."

"Well, you don't need me to tell you how much they despise you."

"I'm about to find out just how much, trust me."

"Just be careful McCree."

"When am I not?"

"I seem to recall you being lefthanded at one point."

"…"

"…"

"Monkey, at least I don't sticky note my passwords to the monitor."

He was rewarded by laughter on the other end.

"It's good to hear from you, you old outlaw."

"Ain't you one now too?"

"What?"

"An outlaw."

"Well we are violating the Petras act, so technically yes, but I don't believe that the UN will make a fuss, not if we succeed. And with so many countries managing bigger problems, they'll appreciate any assistance they can get."

It doesn't take much though. Just one nation can put the pressure on them. How easy it would be to make them the scapegoat, to blame them for terrorist escalation. It's happened in just about every war with terrorism. Can't even get people to agree on who the terrorist are.

"You just be careful yourself Winston."

"Will do, and when you're finished, we'll still have a place for you here."

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

McCree didn't have many people left in the world. He had been a loner for a while now, not caring where he ended up. He had lost so many friends along the way, Ana and Gabe came to his mind unwillingly. He held unto them though, the lessons they taught, the rules they gave, the man they helped him become. He wouldn't let anymore friends down.

"Have you been in contact with Fareeha?"

"She's joining up with us actually. If you want-"

"No, just give her a message. If I don't make it back, tell her how proud I am of her and how proud her mother would be."

"I'll hold the message but I expect you to be the one to deliver it McCree."

"I'll do my best."

"Goodbye Jesse."

"It's Mc-" the line was cut with a small chirp and he was left alone outside of a diner in Phoenix.

Damn monkey.

* * *

 **Location: Some Bar**

 **Time: 11:47 pm**

McCree had been enjoying his time in the bar. He was still working his first drink and he wasn't planning on drinking anymore than that. He had to be on his toes for the foreseeable future. No idea how this could play out. The drink was there to help him relax more so than anything and the deck of cards was there to help him focus.

What a picture he must have been, a cowboy playing cards. He never played in his Deadlock days though. The bosses didn't want internal conflicts over poker losses so they restricted gambling to outside the gang. Reyes had actually been the one to teach him to play cards.

He had been enjoying the solitude of solitaire before some schmuck came over and started talking at him.

He did mean _at._

He had yet to even respond to the man and he just found something else to talk about. He spoke perfect English with only hints of an accent but Jesse wasn't paying attention to anything he said. He could be speaking out Omnic code for all he knew.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

"It's all I've been doing lately. So, why don't you talk up someone else for a sec."

The man muttered something, turned and left, giving McCree much needed ease of mind. To think he only had to wait three or four weeks before something happens. If anything happened. Yeah, that was a possibility that nobody had discussed. He would feel like such an asshole. He wouldn't have gotten paid either, and no hope for Reyes.

This was just depressing.

He got up with every intention of leaving and finished his shot in one go, which was a mistake. It went down the wrong pipe. He darted to the bath room as the uncontrollable coughing sat in. He was able to spit most of it into the sink but he still didn't envy the janitor. Damn that hurt!

Yeah, he was definitely out of here.

He approached the main room as the talker from earlier was coming in, a quizzical look on his face. He opened his mount to speak but the buckshot that hit him in the back of the head ended that.

Shots ringed out in rapid succession as screams and shouts filled the air before being silenced. His gun was out in a flash, it took less than a second for him to clear the door, his gun sight lined up with ….

Reyes.

Standing there.

Still as death.

Surrounded by death.

They were all of them dead. Some not even recognizable has human beings anymore. Like they prematurely aged as they bled to death. A gaseous cloud engulfed Reyes.

McCree opened fire, his robotic arm fanning the hammer so quickly he could mimic an automatic.

He hit nothing.

The cloud moved and shifted around McCree, through him even. Reyes materialized inches from him.

A crack echoed out that Jesse was only vaguely aware came from his head. He was also only vaguely aware of which side the ceiling was at.

Micro seconds after first blow the second one came in the solar plexus. He was already falling back after that, but an outreached arm grabbed a hold of him and brought careening into headbutt. It was at this point that McCree probably lost consciousness but he remembered the face of the talker, lifelessly staring at him, as his world faded to black.

* * *

A/N: I'm going to stop there. Looks like we're picking up some speed. How do you think this going to go down? Will McCree live? Probably not, I don't like the bastard personally. Please review and tell me how I'm doing.


	3. Dis-Armed

**Chapter 3: Dis-Armed**

 **Warnings: Adult Language, themes, smoking, and alcohol**

 **Location: Unknown**

 **Time: Present Day, Six Hours After Massacre**

He was awake.

He didn't move a muscle and he hadn't opened his eyes, but he could sense the darkness around him. He took a moment to feel out his condition.

A broken nose, that familiar fog of a mild concussion, and a bruised solar plexus.

Wait….

Was that a missing tooth?

His mouth was like blood-soaked cotton, he had trouble breathing through his nose, his right arm was chained above his head, but why did his left arm hurt?

He risked a twitch but received no response. He cracked an eye open, blackness overwhelmed him. So, he waited for his eye to adjust.

When it did, he became aware of a silhouette.

He shut his eye. He would play it dead for as long as he could. His mind was only piecing together what had transpired.

" **You're awake**."

So much for that.

"And alive" his voice rasped.

He waited for a split second before adding, "And so are you."

Silence permeated the air for what seemed a lifetime. The hooded silhouette was as still as a statue.

" **You've talked with the monkey**?"

"After what ya'll have been doing, he's been calling everyone."

" **Did he tell you**?"

"No, I've got my own sources."

A low growl reverberated in the cold darkness. The silhouette melted into the blackness, but he still heard the approaching echos of boots on concrete.

" **He's been calling former agents back, but you didn't accept his offer. Why**?"

"You got to me before I could decide."

" **His transmission was sent a week ago. Why didn't you answer the call**?"

"You going to kill me boss?"

The silhouette emerged and surged forward giving McCree a half kick half stomp to the rib cage before blending in with the darkness again.

" **You're going to tell me what I want to know**."

"I know your techniques boss."

" **Then you know there's only one way this will end**."

"What could I possibly have that you don't already know?"

He was lifted by the scruff of his shirt, his chained arm jolting him back, but Reyes kept him suspended in the air.

" **Why didn't you go with them**?"

"A suit came to see me."

"…"

"He told me about you, how you survived."

" **And he wanted you to kill me**?"

"…"

" **Did you think you could do it**?"

"No."

" **Then why did you accept**?"

"I wanted to see if it was true."

He was dropped.

" **And now**?"

"I don't know."

Silence descended. Neither of them said anything.

" **I have a mission for you**."

"You kidding me?"

" **Los Muertos**."

"The gang?"

A grunt/growl was his response.

"You want me to kill a bunch of gangsters for you?"

" **Do you accept the mission**?"

"And why would I help Talon?"

He was lifted again, but this time Reyes delivered a solid punch to the gut that left him gasping.

" **You'll working for me, not Talon**."

McCree wheezed for a few seconds before he grunted out, "Same difference."

He was dropped then given another solid kick to the ribcage. He would be limping out of here at this rate.

" **It will give you time to see**."

"See what?"

" **The truth**."

A cloth was pressed to his face. He struggled for a moment, but his arms were either restrained or unresponsive. He was out in seconds.

* * *

He woke up again.

A faint light streamed in the window.

It took him a moment to recognize the place, but he saw he was back in his motel room, wounds untreated but very much alive. Which was a surprise. He didn't want to give the suit credit but maybe he had Reyes pegged.

The bar.

All those people.

No, he didn't have him pegged, he just didn't care. Not about the people, not about Reyes, and certainly not McCree. It all came down to Sombra. Whoever they were.

Was Reyes even worth the trouble at this point? McCree had witnessed the killings. Those were just people; their own only crime was being in the way. Did Reyes deserve a second chance after this?

McCree had no answer to any of the questions, the concussion notwithstanding the mental focus needed. McCree had always lived life one day at a time and he wasn't about to change now. He would see just how far the boss had gone. If McCree could be saved, then Reyes could.

He surveyed himself. Broken nose, chaffed and sprained right wrist, drugged induced migraine from hell, easing mild concussion, a bruised torso, one missing tooth, … oh, and a missing arm apparently. Seriously, he was missing his left arm.

Way to be a jackass Reyes.

He grumbled and groaned as he struggled to get to a standing position, finding it difficult to support his bruised torso with only one arm.

First things first, he needed a drink.

He turned towards the night stand and saw his whiskey bottle opened and turned over, a stain on the carpet and a puddle on the night stand.

Oh, that motherfu-

* * *

 **Location: El Mejor Bar**

 **Time: Forty-five Minutes Later**

He was nursing a drink and trying to collect himself. His irritation and shock had yet to diminish though. As such, he was jumpy, and his gaze was wandering. Normally, he would be gripping his drink in his left hand while his right strayed towards his holster.

Normally.

His left sleeve dangled where his arm should be. The serape that he normally wore to cover his prosthesis, now emphasized his disability. Phantom pains flickered where his left finger tips should be. Vulnerability set in and he found himself in a corner booth instead of the bar where he could get quick refills.

He turned his head over the booth and surveyed the bar once more.

Still clear.

He turned back around and came face to face with a woman in the opposing seat.

He didn't flinch, his eyes didn't widen, he didn't even blink as he made eye contact with purple irises.

"Hola McCree."

He nodded in return, foregoing his usual tip of the hat to keep his hand closer to his gun.

She maintained eye contact, a smirk adorning her features.

"I heard you need a hand."

Bitch.

He took a swig, "Mutual friend told you?"

"No, but Gabe did."

He paused.

"Didn't think he still went by that. Thought he went by Rapper or Grim or something?"

"Something edgy like that, but it's the best way to mess with him."

"And you're not worried he'll off you?"

"No, I'm too important vaquero."

"So he trusts you?"

"Ha! Eres loco, Gabe doesn't trust anyone."

Some things don't change at least.

He took another swig to disguise looking the woman over. She didn't have any obvious weaponry, so she had some training since she was certainly armed. The purple eyes and the implants on the side of her head were obvious signs of bio enhancements of sorts. Her clothes and her hair dye were strategically chosen to match her eyes.

Cute.

"So, you're a messenger?"

"No, I'm your new boss vaquero."

"No, you're not."

A brow raised, and her smirk seem to deepen.

"You think you've got a choice?"

"Yep."

She looked quizzical at the response.

"What choice?"

"This."

He got up and started walking away, slamming cash down on the bar as he passed by. Spanish curses followed him as the woman scrambled to intercept.

"Hey pendejo!"

He ignored her and continued marching out the door.

"You're making a mistake!"

He was ten yards from his truck.

"You want you're arm back or not?"

He stopped.

She took her time moving to him, steps crushing pebbles into ruined asphalt. When she came to a stop, he turned his head over his shoulder. Her smirk had returned.

"You ready to listen amigo?"

"Where is it?"

"Don't worry, it's back at my place."

He turned around to face her fully. His face featureless but his body as rigid as stone.

"Where?"

Somehow, her smirk deepened.

"In the Rio Salado Motel in room 122."

Right beside his room.

He about-faced and continued to his truck.

"Hey!"

He got in and began the process of strapping himself in.

Harder to do with only one hand.

She jumped in the passenger side and secured herself. He continued to ignore her as he began the arduous task of driving with only one hand.

"You really think that's a good idea?"

"No."

"Oh, I see. You're upset."

Coyness radiated from every crevice of purple's innermost being.

"It's not everyday you lose so badly."

"…"

"You're probably still in shock?"

"…"

"Wondering how we found you so easily? How we know where you are?"

"No."

"Ha! Admit it McCree, you're impressed."

"Darlin it's not impressive to find a man who wants to be found."

All he heard was a scoff in response, followed shortly by yelling as they were almost hit by a freightliner truck. An obvious result of McCree's left turns being less sharp and having wider arcs.

"You trying to kill us puta!

"No hablo Español."

"At least let me drive."

"No."

"Why? Because you don't like admitting weakness? Cause you don't like losing control!?"

"No because we're here."

She had the good grace to at least look surprised as she turned around and looked around the parking lot of the shady motel.

She muttered something in Spanish that McCree didn't bother to listen to, much less translate. He parked the truck and was out in a flash, darting towards the direction of room 122.

He had no idea what he would find on the other side of the door so he unholstered his gun before raising his leg up to deliver the necessary force to break it down.

"Hey pendejo what are you doing!?"

The crash of the doorknob splintering off was his response. And with leveled gun he entered the unlit room.

The room was empty, but he still eyed the shadows warily. He didn't holster his gun but instead used it to poke and prod around as he looked for his arm. She didn't keep it anywhere obvious.

"You know all you have to do is ask?"

He looked up from scouring under the bed to see the bitch smirking down at him. He stood up and stepped up to her, his more considerable height even more apparent and his gun arm dangling on his side. He stared down at her, but she just smirked back up at him.

"I'm waiting McCree."

"…"

"Is it so hard to ask for help?"

He had never hit a woman before but damn was he close. He drew in a breath, broke the stare and turned towards the window.

"Yes."

"Yes what? That's not a question."

"Can you give me back my arm?"

The fact that he growled it out seemed to delight her even more.

"Si."

His back was still to her as her heard the sounds rustling behind him. He heard her approach.

"Well."

He turned to face her, and relief washed over him when he saw that she was indeed holding his arm. She was still smirking though.

Then it dawned on him.

He stared mutely at the device as he realized that it would be next to impossible to install the device with only one arm himself. He looked up to find purple irises gleaming with amusement. Her hand was extended, offering his arm to him.

"Do you need help vaquero?"

He had had enough of this.

"Come on."

He went to his room, found his cigars, and sat in the room's only chair. She for her part, stood near the doorway.

"Alright let's do this"

"Do what?"

"Just shut up and help me with my arm."

She took her time striding over to him and took even longer looking down at him.

"Take off your shirt."

"No."

"You want me to get your arm on, right?"

"It's an arm not open-heart surgery."

"I'm new to this."

"Every time I've had work down on it the shirt stayed on."

That was a bold face lie.

"By doctors, no? I'm going to need a bit more … leeway."

What was she going to ask for next, his gun?

Sighing he went about the complicated process of undressing with one arm. The body armor certainly didn't help. The hat was easy, but he felt more naked with it off than if was missing everything else.

With his torso uncovered, she crouched down to check out … examine the prosthesis connection point. She grabbed ahold of his bicep and began to twist and point it at awkward angles. She had no idea what she was doing did she?

She got bored with his stump of an arm and began surveying his bruised torso. McCree did his damnedest to ignore her and focused on lighting his cigar.

"Ow!"

She was poking a bruise at the left side of ribcage. Her face more pensive than amused.

"You might have bruised ribs McCree."

"Might?"

"We should get that fixed up."

"Just get to the arm."

She snatched the cigar from his mouth before he could finish light it.

"Hey!"

"Now your arm." She declared while tossing the unlit cigar to the side.

He silently fumed while she went through the agonizingly long process of getting his arm on. Dr. Ziegler would have had his arm on and ribs healed before Purple here was done feeling him up.

When she had finally finished, McCree began moving his arm and flexing the fingers. He never felt anything but sometimes his brain would see the movement and send him the sensations anyway. At moments like that he could almost believe that it wasn't missing.

He closed his eyes and felt the familiar twitches and pains in a limb that no longer existed. He wouldn't trade the feeling for anything in the world. He never regretted what he had lost but he never forgot either.

He redressed quickly, eager to be as far away from the woman as possible. She was sitting on his bed quietly observing him.

"Get ready McCree. We'll be leaving pronto."

"I'm not going anywhere with you."

"That arm tells a different story McCree."

He was on his guard in an instant, her tone matched with a casual body language made it perfectly clear she had something up her sleeve. She stood up and began a slow predatorial stride towards him. She stopped in front of him took a moment before reaching for his left arm. He watched as she examined his mechanical palm.

"Everything has a story to tell, everything has a secret, everything and **_everyone_** can have theirs's exposed."

"I've got no secrets."

"Oh I don't think so. You've got quite the secret actually and I'll find it out, but your arm has a secret to tell you first."

"And what's that?"

"I've been hacked."

"…"

"Hacked and rigged to blow."

"You're shitting me?"

"Everything can be hacked McCree … and everyone."

He moved his arm up for observation, then he turn his gaze back to Purple. She seemed quite pleased with herself.

"Before you think anything amigo, I've linked the bomb to my heartbeat and brainwave signals. If I die, then you go too."

"Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Sombra."

She extended her left hand towards him.

"A pleasure working with you McCree."

* * *

A/N: My Russian is unrefined, and my Spanish is rusty, my Latin is useless, and my German is nonexistent. Now that you know that, please give me a bit of grace with all foreign languages that are and are to come in this fic. Suggestions and/or corrections are welcome.

My sincerest thanks for the reviews so far. Fics filled with copious explanations are annoying to say the least. With that in mind, I'll probably be trimming and polishing some of the older chapters in addition to updates. This is still my first fic after all.


	4. Don't Forget the Umbrella

**Location: South of the US/Mexico Border, Sonora Desert**

 **Time: 11:36 pm**

She couldn't drive to save her life, but she was better than Oxton. At least she was on the right side of the road.

Transportation wasn't the first thing he thought about when the Suit told him to infiltrate Talon. However, somewhere in his mind he assumed that he would carted off around the world at high speeds. Not in an, admittedly, nice rental. He suspected she had stolen it, but he didn't press the issue. He hadn't pressed anything after she told him who she was. Because now he had to kill her. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to her.

When he was a younger man, he might've already have tried something risky and reckless, but age had brought wisdom and he learned his lessons well. She was **a** Sombra. There very well might be more. He needed to get a bit more intel before he made any decision. Additionally, he was trying to see what kind of game Reyes was playing here. This hadn't seemed like his MO so far.

Of course, there was always the matter of being rigged to blow. He couldn't forget about that, now could he? She certainly hadn't let him forget either. He had done his best to ignore her verbal jabs at him, he wasn't interested in verbal spars with most people let alone a mark, but she was persistent. She also seemed to notice his unusual silence, though she had attributed that to her "beating him."

He scoffed.

As if that's what it was about. No, he had the better hand. Because she didn't know his job was to kill her. It was the only one that mattered. He'd get Moira's notes, cure Reyes, and have this demon put to rest forever.

"Something funny McCree?"

He didn't answer. His hat was positioned over the ridge of his nose, like he was pretending to sleep. He had no intention to talk to the dead and if he kept that in mind with her then he'd have no problems when the time came.

"I know you're awake. You're breathing's off."

Don't say anything.

"Oh, I see how it is…."

Not in a million years darlin.

"Still pouting."

More like waiting.

"It's not every day you lose so badly."

He laughed. He couldn't help himself. He was going to have to kill her and she thought she was winning? Sure, it was dark humor, but she was so far out of her element here. How did Reyes put it? McCree and he weren't psychopaths, they were high functioning psychopaths.

From under his hat, he had seen her physically jump when he laughed. Evidently, she was spooked.

"You got headphones under that hat? You listening to a comedian?"

"Nah."

"Then what is so funny?"

"You thinking I lost."

"Gabe beat you negro y azul and your arm is set to blow. How did you not lose?"

"Because I'm not playing."

She was silent for a spell. The motor was the only sound to accompany them for a stretch.

"That doesn't always matter amigo."

Her voice had lowered, like it was thoughtful or somber. He might've touched a nerve. Which would be annoying. Jesse could handle bitchy women, but he hated dealing with sad ones.

"What is it you do anyway?"

He could at least dig for intel.

"Why the interest?"

"I'm guessing support related, maybe tech."

"What makes you say that?"

"Besides rigging my arm to blow? If Reyes needed something dead he'd do it himself. And if he was so busy that he couldn't then I'd be doing this alone."

"You're forgetting that he doesn't trust you."

"So, you are my handler?"

"No, I'm just saying that he wouldn't send you unless he could control you."

"That how he does things with you?"

"No, like I said, he needs me. I'm Sombra."

Amused pride soaked her tone. The arrogance alone seemed to corroborate the fact that she was someone important. Maybe Sombra was just one person? It should make this easier.

"You say that like it's supposed to mean something."

"Oh, it does."

"And what does it mean besides shadow?"

"Ha! I knew you spoke Spanish. I was just thinking; how does a guy smuggle weapons and drugs across the border for years and not speak Spanish?"

"Money's a language everyone speaks."

"Hmm"

"So?"

"Que?"

"What does it mean?"

"You know you haven't bothered to ask what you're doing here? Why you're part of this?"

"Heh, there's only one reason ya'll need someone like me and it ain't my looks or sparkling personality. And you're changing the subject."

"But aren't you wondering why Gabe didn't kill you?"

"…"

"I know I am."

"You don't know then?"

"Not fully, but I've got theories on the rest. He can play it mysterious if he wants to."

"He mentioned that I wouldn't be working for Talon."

He was aware of a shifting movement from her side. She was shaking her head.

"No, you're working for me."

"Not what he said."

"You're working for him by working for me."

"He's your boss then?"

"We're more like co-workers."

"Reyes doesn't do co-workers."

"That explains a lot. He's always acting like I'm his little soldier, but I can pull more strings than he can possibly imagine."

"Sounds like a lot of resentment there."

"Ha, you know we're a lot alike McCree."

"How long have we've known each other again?"

"You've known me for hours, but I've known you for months."

"…"

"Your whole life is in various news reports, top secret mission reports, criminal records, and medical files, but none of those tell the true story."

"And what's that?"

"You're a sobreviviente, a survivor. Just like me."

She can think that all she wants, doesn't mean she's right. Especially since he's going to put her survivability to the test.

"But that's just what you want people to think right? The funny thing McCree is you like playing hero and you want to shoot the bad guy and go riding into the sol."

"…"

"And people don't need to see you as the good guy either. You just need to take out the bad guy."

"Where are we going anyway?"

"Ha! I must be on to something."

"I'm just getting bored of you rambling on."

"Whatever you say vaquero. We're going to meet up with a contact of mine first. The rest is need to know."

"How much longer till we get there?"

"Ten minutes."

He moved his hat off his brow and sat up. They were still in the desert, no city in sight. A high-tech hacker physically meeting a contact in the middle of the desert? Didn't quite look like the image of a world ending threat that Jesse had tried to imagine.

He didn't question her though and leaned back again. She didn't attempt to restart the conversation and McCree was grateful from the first break from her barrage. With the newfound silence, the minutes came and went. Eventually, he felt the telltale signs of deacceleration. They were arriving.

"Bueno, we're here."

He silently adjusted his hat and stepped out of the vehicle.

They were in the middle of a small and ruined town. From the looks of things, another scar from the Omnic Crisis. The houses and buildings looked like they were used as target practice rather than living. None of them seemed livable.

He noticed that they were parked in front of what appeared to be an old convivence store. At least what was left of it. Sombra began walking towards it.

"Stay here McCree. This should only take a few minutes."

He nodded, even though she couldn't see and leaned against the vehicle, taking the time to enjoy the cool night air. He also took the time to rummage through his pockets for a cigar. He could at least enjoy his time out of the car.

Time passed by and McCree found himself immersed in the beauty of the desert night sky. God what a sight. He also took in the geography around him. It was then that he noticed it. Not a light but the absence of it. Specifically, the absence and reappearance of some stars. Like something was passing in front of his vision and the starlight. He saw a flash of light

He ran from the car as fast as he could and threw himself over a ruined wall, seconds before an explosion destroyed the vehicle.

Shrapnel rained from the sky and McCree's ears were ringing like wedding bells. His training kicked him into gear. He had to secure the target. He vaulted over the wall and sprinted towards the store. Sombra and some guy emerged from the store to see what was going on and she was almost tackled by McCree as he threw her over his shoulder and renewed his sprint.

"Hey put me-"

She was cut off by another explosion that shattered what was left of the store and the screaming emanating from the other man.

McCree couldn't stop though.

He ran straight to what was left of the town church. He didn't bother stopping as he braced his shoulder for impact. The door fell off from the hinges and Jesse spent all of a second recovering before he darted towards the back of the church.

He managed to get behind the south transept right as a third explosion ripped right into the bell tower, effectively demolishing the front of the building. After the dust and shrapnel subsided, McCree darted to the back of the church.

"Where is it?!"

"What?!"

"The basement, they've all got one!"

"I-"

"There!"

He threw the door open and rushed down the stairs as another explosion incinerated the center of the church.

As was fitting of his location, he thanked whatever God there was in heaven that the basement was relatively deep.

For all the good it would do them.

He threw her from his shoulder and surveyed their location. Heading back towards the direction of the bell tower was their best bet. He grabbed her hand and pull/dragged her with him along the way.

Finally, having had enough, she wrestled her hand from his grasp and growled out.

"Let me handle this."

"What the f-"

"I've got this."

With that, she pulled a tablet like device from … wherever she had it and proceeded to tap at the screen furiously. Holographic projections shot up around her and she began an intricate dance of holographic manipulation and device juggling. McCree had seen nothing like it before and, coming from a Blackwatch background, that was saying something.

Another explosion rocked the ground above them and part of the basement collapsed. He was about to carry her off again when she triumphantly tapped the tablet with a smirk and declared, "Child's play."

McCree paused and glanced around.

Nothing happened.

Seconds became a minute, and a minute became two, but still no more explosions. He looked at her with a steady eye. Careful, lest he could jinx them, he asked, "What the hell?"

"Drones are child's play chico. There's a reason they weren't used much in the Omnic Crisis."

She tisked and shook her head.

"Honestly, I think they sh-"

"Come on."

He grabbed her hand and marched out of the basement. It was a chore to get out, but he managed to push aside the rubble without too much trouble. The church was, more or less, burning rubble and only a few sections of wall remained. He wasn't three steps on the surface when he noticed the sound.

It was the sound of repulsor based aircraft.

He grabbed Sombra's hand again and pulled her with him as he dived behind a burning section of wall. Before she could even think to interject, he raised his cybernetic limb to indicate the sounds outside.

Her eyes lit up in understanding and a holographic projection sprang up. McCree position himself beside her, careful to keep the fire directly behind them so as to throw off IR sensors. He found himself seeing an aerial feed of the town with three dropships hovering above.

"The drone?"

"Si, it's not difficult to hack McCree."

"You hacked a military encrypted multimillion-dollar piece of hardware in seconds?"

"Now you're impressed!"

"Not yet."

"Huh?"

"First, give those bastards a taste of their own medicine, then I'll be impressed."

She smiled evilly at him.

"It will be my pleasure McCree."

Another projection appeared, and she worked her magic. Five rockets shot out from the drone. Blasts of dust and fire erupted around them and the sound of screeching metal pierced the night. Secondary explosions were heard briefly afterward followed by more dust clouds.

When the gunslinger raised his head again, he found that two of the dropships were burning heaps of scrap. One near the north side of town and the other near the southwest. The one closest to them was grounded but appeared to be mostly intact. Some twenty troops had already been deployed and had positioned themselves facing the direction of the incoming fire.

Jesse couldn't help a smirk as he stood up and casually walked to the destroyed entryway. He took his time repositioning his hat and securing a cigar in his mouth along the way. He needed to make sure he had his game on first.

"What the hell are you doing? Just let the drone handle it."

"You're out of ammo."

She pulled up her projection of the drone's systems and found that she had indeed used up what was left of its AGMs.

"We've still got the cannons."

"I've no intention of being strafed by **your** aim. The rockets were bad enough."

"Hey!"

"Sides, I've got the advantage."

Without waiting for her response, he continued his trek to the entryway.

Dust was still billowing from the recent bombardment and smoke and ashes filled the night sky. As he stepped onto the elevated rubble that used to be a doorway, he noticed the eerie shadows the fires caused. The sounds of armored boots rushing along the dirt and rubble resounded in his ears. In the dim light he noticed the armored figures facing the direction of rocket fire, not knowing that they had been hit by their own ordinance.

A normal man would have seen the odds as too great: there were too many, the terrain too unfavorable, visuals too obscured, the enemy had night optics, he didn't have any etc. A normal man would have tried to use their distraction to run away and be hunted down in the desert like a dog.

This wasn't a normal man though, this was Jesse McCree and as for the lighting, it might as well had been high noon.

He tossed a flash bang high in the air and brandished his Peacekeeper with a twirling flourish. He emptied his shots in rapid succession.

Every shot struck its target and every target dropped dead.

As soon as his last shot was fired, he dived to his left to avoid the retaliatory fire. He immediately began reloading as soon as he hit the ground, ignoring the shots from almost a dozen rifles ripping apart what was left of the church wall.

Then the flash bang went off. The overly luminous blaze of light was bad enough on a person's eyes without even factoring in what it would do to a person wearing night vision optics. But if any person would know its effect, it would be Jesse.

The shots instantly were silence after the flashbang exploded, exclamatory shouts were heard, and McCree vaulted over the wall and immediately began his charge, firing off shots along the way. He was targeting the squad outside the ruined building directly across the street. He had seconds before they recovered, and he did not want to be cut down in the middle of Nowheresville.

He dropped three more on his charge across the street. As he stepped through the dilapidated doorway he came face to face with the red armored mask of a Talon trooper.

His cybernetic fist shattered said mask and probably a considerable amount of the man's skull. The three other soldiers in the room were already raising their rifles.

He pulled the incapacitated trooper to him before he could fall and leveled his Peacekeeper.

First shot, a kill.

Second shot, a kill.

The third Talon opened fire, his shots peppering McCree's makeshift body shield.

Third shot, a wound.

The man grunted as the bullet penetrated his abdomen and collapsed on the ground, but he was still a threat. McCree, still gripping the now certainly dead Talon trooper, took a step forward and half hoisted half tossed the corpse onto the wounded Talon, effectively pinning his gun under the corpse.

The ex-Blackwatch agent was on him in two strides and delivered a bone crushing stomp to the man's head.

A few shots slammed into the wall behind him as the remaining Talon agents zeroed in on his location. This is where it got interesting. He no longer had the element of surprise or shock on his side, they had eyes on his position, and were able to concentrate fire. But he had another ace in the hole.

A two-man fireteam that had been laying down a constant stream of fire suddenly ceased in a wave of sub machine-gun fire. He slowly peered around the door frame.

Where the hell did that come from? There's no movement.

There couldn't be many more left. He reckoned three or four at max. The two-man fireteam had been on his left side, the shots that had been hitting his building came from both sides so there was around one fireteam left.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder.

He twirled around with all the speed years of military training can instill, intent on fracturing the combatant's cranium, only to find empty air. He paused for a moment before Sombra materialized from nowhere.

"Careful McCree! You almost took my head off!"

"A little warning next time darlin and I won't take your head off."

At least not yet.

He turned his eyes back to the front, scanning for any movement before turning back to Sombra.

"We're changing locations."

"Better idea. I've still got eyes in the air."

She waved the projection of the aerial feed in front of him. He saw about five IR signatures. Considering that two of them were Sombra and he, that left three more. Better yet, they were all in one building. He looked out the doorway and found the building from the feed.

"You ready for a good old-fashioned breach?" he asked while pulling another flashbang off his belt.

"How about you let me line up the drone for a strafe? It will take a minute tips."

"Tops."

"What?"

"The expression is tops, and no, they'll already consider that, and they'll try something. We push the attack."

With that said, he pulled the pin from the grenade, carefully aimed over the wall, and lobbed it far and hard. He looked out the door to see the grenade fall right in the center of the roofless building.

An explosion and he was already midway to the building. He was less than a yard away from the door when he heard it.

The tell-tale roar of flight engines.

He came to an abrupt halt and through himself in a sprint back to the building, narrowly missing the missing the cannon fire from the drone. What was left of the building was grounded to powder, but the gunslinger couldn't appreciate the destruction while he was diving face first through the doorway.

"Ha! Told you the drone could get it!"

"Woman! Are you trying to kill me?!"

She looked incredibly bored at the moment, like his survival centered complaint was too obvious.

"No, but I thought it would remind you."

"Remind me what?! That you're insane!"

"That I'm the boss."

"…"

"And when I say we're using the drone then amigo we're using the drone."

"…"

"Come on."

The town was already ruined before they got here but now it was a burning mass of rubble and dropship parts. As McCree carefully walked through the desolation he was aware of only the sounds of cackling fire, and the high pitch whine of winding passing through narrow openings and holes.

There was no life, no movement, nothing. He noticed Sombra heading to the convenience store. She stopped at the edge of the crater that had once been her contact. She had her hands folded in front of her and her head bowed. If McCree didn't know any better, it almost looked like she was praying but she had her hands tapping away at some device.

He glanced at what was left of the church, the walls and the bell tower gone but the cross on top somehow surviving.

It's not like prayer would do anyone any good here.

Jesse pulled another cigar from his pocket and lit it on the fiery scrap pile that used to be their car.

"A friend of yours?"

"No."

He nodded and decided to leave it at that. There was a lot more to worry about right now. Wasn't she with Talon? Then why were they trying to kill them? Did she have anyone she could call to pick them up? Were they going to be walking out? Is there mission compromised? Etc.

McCree removed the cigar, spat then took another drag. He let the smoke fill his lungs and let it out with an all too relaxing breath. He had made the mistake of underestimating his situation. It wasn't just semantics when everyone told him that he wasn't going to be working for Talon. He wasn't going to be working for Talon.

He looked up to the night sky, polluted with ash and smoke. It was harder to see the stars now.

What the hell did Reyes get him into?

* * *

A/N: I'm back! I've made some changes to the story. Mostly cut out the flashback sequence at the beginning. Though I like it, it felt like it was going against the direction of the story. I should get the next chapter up soon.


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